


Untitled

by Rollina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, One True Pairing, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollina/pseuds/Rollina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is back home at 221B Baker St. and finds out Sherlock is in a "bad mood".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> John's point of view.

Warm.  
Moist, warm.  
Fog. Not physical fog, _mist_.  
You idiot. What did you shoot up in the mood this time?  
I hold you. I'm here, I hold you. Easy.  
His head on my shoulder, his arms around my neck, he grabs me, falls, I hold him. I hold you.  
I can feel his skin through his shirt, I don't wanna think it, I think it, I feel it. I shiver.  
Easy.  
We're sitting on the edge of the bed.  
He lifts his head, hardly. Looks at me, his eyes lost. I look at him. Those disarming eyes. Those watery eyes from the drug he's got in his body, even more lost, more disarming. He's seeking me. I can't stop looking at him. He begs me without speaking. He begs me not to stop looking at him.  
"Do not..."  
Christ. What the fuck have you done?  
"Do not... go..."  
His head on my shoulder, it falls again, I hold him. I cuddle him. I'm not going anywhere. No, I'm not.  
Easy.  
His hair on my cheek, on my mouth. His scent. He holds me tight. His breath, fatigued, on the neck. On my neck. I shiver. I close my eyes, feel him, follow him, can't help myself, he doesn't feel me, or maybe he does, I breathe with him.  
Christ. This is not me. This can't be me.  
I take his head in my hands, slowly, hold it up. I look at him. He looks at me. I hold him an inch from my mouth, I don't want him farther away, I talk to him. Touch his hair. His forehead. His cheek. Soft. He squints. He instinctively goes with my gesture and leans gently on my hand.  
"Hey..." I feel a preposterous tenderness in my own voice, this is not me, this can't be me. "Hey..."  
No, it can't. It can't be me.  
"...Don't..."  
Hardly the words get out of his mouth.  
I lay a quick kiss on his lips, don't know why I'm doing that, don't know how long I've been willing to do that, don't know why I can't do anything else. I just can't. He stays, waits for me, then looks at me, astonished. So terribly innocent, so terribly  _defenseless_ , that I feel a lump rising in my throat.  
Christ.  
His arm, his sleeve up, falls on my leg, almost no weight. I take it, I watch it, it's pale and _fragile_. I hold it gently, I'm scared it could break, while I brush it unwittingly. And I shake my head and swallow the anger, because even if this is not the first time this has happened, since I know him, only now I realize how many other small signs violate that skin, so white, so smooth. So precious.  
 _Precious_.  
I skim the top button of his shirt between my thumb and index. I shiver. I know if I do that, then I won't stop anymore. I don't care.  
Below, although I don't wanna know, _I know_ there's a whole universe of pure and unconscious beauty.  
He looks at me, blinks, it's plain that he's lost. Lost, in my hands.  
And I'm lost in his eyes that are making an inhuman strain in not letting me go.  
Lost on his skin, which it's taking me ages to reveal and which I almost don't dare to touch now.  
I don't know how I feel. If I am still me. I don't care. I just know _I want_ , with all of my body, my mind and my heart, _I want to feel like that_.  
His thin fingers, so incredulous that they look like glass on my cheek.  
His astonishment. _My_ astonishment.  
His voice soft and warm.  
"...you crying?"


End file.
